Three for the Money, page 7
“Oh? So he was murdered?”
I could happily have broken his neck.
“All right,” I said. “He was murdered. Now, listen to me for a minute. Joe’s sick and Kitty isn’t here to explain, and if you publish this story in your lousy rag I will personally murder you. I’m not kidding. I mean it.”
“Sure, sure,” said Pinky. He didn’t sound overly impressed. “What are you going to do now?”
I didn’t know. I was still reaching for time. I said, “I’m going to call Stratford, and I’m not going to call from this office.”
I got an envelope from the drawer and put the license and picture into it and slipped them into my pocket. Pinky watched me, mockery on his sharp face.
“You wouldn’t suppress evidence, would you, Lieutenant?”
I almost hit him.
“You listen to me. I don’t care who killed Frenchy Melman. As far as I’m concerned, whoever did it deserves a medal. But I’m going to find out who did it. Now listen good. Joe and Kitty Kane are the best friends I’ve got in this world. I’ll stake my life on either or both of them. And nobody is going to hurt them. But nobody!
“Now, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give you whatever break I can if you will agree not to publish this about Kitty.”
Pinky took a backward step. I don’t often let that much intensity be revealed by my voice. He watched me shrewdly, then turned to the door.
“Let’s go call Canada.”
I let my breath out slowly. We walked over to the telephone company. It was crowded, as usual. Tourists are always running out of money in Vegas and phoning home for more.
I got my connection through to the chief of police in Stratford and introduced myself, then asked him to check the Hines family to find out if any of them were still living in town. I asked him also to check on the minister and the witnesses who had signed the license.
He did not know either the Hineses or the Burtons, but he had known the minister. The man had died two years ago. Thirty years is a long time. He promised to check the records and send me anything he found. I told him to send it to me marked “personal,” hung up the phone and left the booth.
“What did you learn?” It was Pinky, waiting for me beside the door.
I told him what the police chief had said. “Now look, Pinky, no matter what we find, Joe had nothing to do with it.”
“Didn’t he?”
I did not like the tone of his voice. “He did not. There’s nothing to show that he knew anything about Kitty or Melman.”
“I’m not so sure.”
I was getting mad. It’s never safe to get mad at Pinky. “What are you driving at?”
Pinky scratched his nose thoughtfully. “The doctor said that Joe acted as if he’d had some kind of emotional shock. Supposing he’d just found out that his wife had been married to Melman? Wouldn’t that qualify as an emotional shock?”
I didn’t answer. I stared up and down the busy, sweltering street at the shirt-sleeved loafers gathered before the Golden Nugget’s corner door.
“Supposing Melman tried to put the arm on him? What would Joe do if the guy started bothering Kitty?”
“Shoot him.” I said it promptly. “But he wouldn’t go through the hocus-pocus of feeding him a mickey and then stabbing him with an ice pick or something.”
“So that’s what happened!” Pinky was triumphant.
“Damn you!” I was so upset about Joe and Kitty that I hadn’t even been thinking about what I was saying. “Anyway, you’re all wrong. Joe Kane had nothing to do with Frenchy Melman—alive or dead. I doubt that he ever spoke to Melman in his life.”
“Sure he did. On the night Frenchy was killed.”
I stared at him suspiciously. “Now what are you trying to feed me? Where was this?”
“In the washroom of the Florentine.”
“What time was it?”
Pinky shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, around six or six-thirty I’d say. I’d stopped by for a drink and a quick shot at the table on my way home. I lost.” He gave me a wry grin. “So I went into the can and there were Frenchy and Joe talking in a corner.”
“What were they saying?”
“I don’t know. Frenchy was talking as I walked in. He clammed up as soon as he saw me.”
“Joe speak to you?”
“That’s the funny part of it. He looked straight at me and never even blinked. It was as if he just didn’t see me. I thought probably I’d walked in on something and he was sore.”
“How come you didn’t mention this before?”
He shrugged. “I was going to ask Joe what they were talking about, and I didn’t get around to it before he collapsed. Honest, Max, it never dawned on me that Joe was mixed up with Frenchy until I found that marriage license.”
“He still isn’t.” I said it stubbornly. “What else happened—anything?”
“Yeah. I just remembered something while you were talking on that phone. Frenchy handed him a package just as I came in.”
“What kind of a package?”
“About the size of a box of typewriter paper, only twice as thick. Do you want to know what I think was in that package?”
I didn’t. I already had an idea. I had seen a package that size when I had cleared out Joe’s desk. It was now behind the jaws of the property room at the office.
Pinky noted my hesitation. He grinned unhappily. “The missing two hundred thousand. I’ll give you two, five and even that Joe Kane carried it out of the hotel.”
8
I HAD TO KNOW. I had to look in that package, and I hated myself for the thought. But first I had to get rid of Pinky. That was easier than I hoped, for as soon as we got back to the courthouse, Orton called me into his office.
Like a bulldog, Pinky had questioned me all the way up. “You’re sure Joe didn’t say anything about his talking to Melman after Frenchy’s death?”
I assured him that Joe hadn’t.
“And he didn’t mention the money?”
“He did not. Believe me.”
“Wonder where he would have put it?”
“You don’t even know that he had it.”
“No, but it would explain a lot of things.”
It was a relief to get away from him. Orton looked up from his desk as I walked in. “How’s it going?”
I told him about the threatening letters. He frowned. “Have you checked with the other one—what’s her name?”
“Ruth? No, I haven’t yet.”
“Better do it. Find out if she got one too.”
I said that I would. I told him about the box of Frenchy’s clippings, but I did not mention Kitty’s marriage license or photograph, and I did not tell him that Pinky had seen Joe talking to the gambler on the night of the murder. It was the first time I had ever held back evidence. I didn’t like doing it, even for Joe.
From Orton’s office, I went directly to the property room and rang the bell. Pop Nelson came to the door grumbling. He always grumbled, like a bear disturbed in his cave.
I said, “That box of Joe’s stuff that I brought in this morning. I want to check on something in it.”
“Why didn’t you check before you brought her in?”
“I was in a hurry.”
“That’s the trouble with you guys, you never stop to think, always make a man extra trouble.”
Pop wore a blue shirt with a detachable Celluloid collar. I think it is the only Celluloid collar left in existence. Joe was always threatening to scratch a match on it. He followed me down the short corridor and indicated the box, set neatly on one of the shelves, marked with Joe Kane’s name. I pulled it down and carried it to the desk. Pop stayed right behind me like a watchdog.
I didn’t know exactly what to do. I opened the box and laid the package aside, pretending to look through Joe’s stuff below. Then I got a break, for the buzzer summoned Pop to the receiving window.
As soon as he was gone, I pulled loose one end of the paper tape which secured the package. It had dried in the heat and came free easily. I unfolded the tucked-in wrapping paper. Then I was staring at the tight packets of bills. I forced up one corner and read the hundred dollar denomination.
Quickly, I refolded the wrapper, licked the tape and rubbed it into place. I was putting the rest of the things back into the box as Pop returned. I tried to keep my voice even.
“This package shouldn’t have been put in here.”
Pop stared at it, his native suspicion almost making his nose twitch.
“What’s in it?”
“Just some papers.”
“Belong to Joe?”
I nodded.
“Then he’ll have to sign it out. Can’t let nothing go out of this room unless it’s signed for. You know that, Max.”
I was getting mad but I knew I had to hold my temper. “Look, Pop, I just brought this stuff in here this morning, myself. Why make a big deal of it? It’s just something I should have taken to Kitty.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “Can’t release it. Once it’s in this room the county’s responsible. Joe could sue the county.”
“You old knothead, Joe wouldn’t sue. You know that. Now, be yourself and let me take this package.”
He wavered. For an instant I thought he was going to agree. Then he brightened.
“You write to Joe and tell him to send me a written order, then you can have it.”
He was perfectly happy. He had solved the problem. And I knew when I was licked. I put the package back in the box and returned it to the shelf. Then I had a horrifying thought. On the first of every month, the old fuss-budget inventoried everything in the property room and balanced it against his list. Would he open the package of money, or merely mark it as a package belonging to Captain Joe Kane? I had no way of knowing, but I had a mental picture of Nelson breaking the tape, lifting out the packets of money, listing them in his meticulous bookkeeper’s hand, probably counting the bills individually. I wouldn’t put it past him to note down the serial numbers. Then a copy of the list would be sent, in the line of regular procedure, to the sheriff.
I was sweating when I left the property room. I simply did not know what course to take. But I was in it now, whatever was going on. I could not bring myself to believe that Joe had purposely taken that money. Yet, why hadn’t he mentioned it at the time of Frenchy’s murder? Why hadn’t he mentioned it when we questioned the women?
I had to think, and my mind seemed to be going round and round in circles. I was certain of only one thing. No one else must know about the money until I had a logical explanation for Joe’s possession of it.
And there it sat—like a time bomb.
Pinky didn’t make me feel any better. One man can keep a secret. But with two, it’s hard, and Pinky had enough damning evidence to blow us all up. He was loafing beside the booking desk, talking to the sergeant. I didn’t want to see him. I wanted time alone to think. I headed for the door, but had no luck. He was right at my heels.
“Where you headed?”
“Orton wants me to check on Ruth Melman, to see if she got a threatening note, but you aren’t going with me.”
He just grinned. I knew that he was coming, and there was not a thing I could do about it. All he had to do was publish the story of Kitty and Melman’s marriage, and the bomb would explode.
We went to the Sahara. It was hard to park, with all the construction machinery around the new building. I called Ruth on the house phone and asked her to meet us in the cocktail lounge.
Ruth came to the lounge doorway a few minutes later and paused, looking around. Pinky whistled through his teeth. He had the look of a terrier at a rathole.
I stood up as she came to the table, saying, “This is Pinky White, of the Chronicle.”
She smiled at him, a careful, investigative smile. “I know. We met this morning.”
I glanced at Pinky. He hadn’t mentioned meeting her, but I was not surprised. He was grinning happily.
“Sure, dad, we’re old friends.”
The woman turned her glance on me with undisguised eagerness. “You’ve found the money?”
I started involuntarily. The goddamned money. I wished I had never heard of it. “What makes you say that?”
“As busy as you are, I wouldn’t have expected you to come out otherwise.” Her eyes flicked over me speculatively and her smile tucked up the corners of her mouth.
I said, “Sorry, I came out to ask if you have received a threatening note.”
Disappointment brought her face back to its enameled norm, then she nodded. “I did receive one.”
“Why didn’t you report it to our office?”
“I gave it to Mr. White. He said that he worked for the sheriff.”
I looked at Pinky. I could have killed him with pleasure at the moment. For a number of reasons.
“You bum. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sounded indifferent. “You’d have read about it in the paper. I didn’t know the things were being wholesaled until you told me.”
I started to tell him that he was going to find himself in serious trouble over this, that if the sheriff found out, he’d be barred from the office. Then I didn’t. I was in no position to tell Pinky anything.
Where news was concerned, the little man was utterly ruthless. It did not matter to him who got hurt as long as he got the story.
I said, “In the meanwhile, something could have happened to her.”
He winked at Ruth. “I got a man watching. I don’t miss a trick like that, dad.”
I looked at the girl. “And what are you going to do about it? If you’re real smart, you’ll go back to Cleveland on the first plane.”
She picked up her drink and took a long swallow. Then she set the glass down, although her hand was trembling a little.
“Nobody is going to scare me out of Vegas. I have as much right to Frenchy’s money as those other women, and I’m going to stay here to protect my rights. That money will be found. I know it will. It couldn’t simply just vanish. Haven’t you made any progress at all? Haven’t you got—what is it they say—leads?”
I ducked that one. I said, “I may be divulging a confidence, but I should tell you that Frenchy left a will. It is drawn in favor of the woman you saw in the office yesterday, the older one.”
“I remember her.” She said it with obvious distaste. “I’ll never understand how Frenchy could get mixed up with a creature like that. Frenchy had his faults, but he was well educated, even though it was self-education, and he wasn’t common.”
It occurred to me that Frenchy must have had another side, a side he showed only to women. Certainly this girl had had some advantages, and Norda, for all her childish qualities, showed breeding. And Kitty… that one I couldn’t comprehend, although as I’ve grown older I’ve found that I know less and less about women.
I shrugged and finished my drink. Ruth studied me thoughtfully as if trying to make up her mind. Finally she asked, “What was the date on this will?”
I said, “1926. I don’t remember the exact day.”
“Wait here, please.” She rose quickly and left the lounge.
Pinky stared after her. “That Frenchy!” His voice was envious. “How did he manage to come up with all these babes?”
“He was a better con man than you are. Why didn’t you tell me she’d had a threatening letter?”
“Would you have come out here?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a good reason. I wanted to see her again and she turned down my invitation this morning.” He grinned at me as the girl came back into the room.
She had a paper in her hand and I guessed what it was before she handed it to me. It was another will. It was beginning to dawn on me that Frenchy Melman, somewhere in his small, cold mind, had a sense of humor. I could picture him, every time he got “married,” drawing a new will with macabre delight, figuring that when he finally died his wives could have a battle royal over whatever estate he left.
“Now,” she asked, as I finished reading and handed the paper back, “who do you think has the best claim now? That was drawn in 1947 and cancels all previous wills.”
“Take it to a good lawyer and have him file it for probate.”
“You mean I have a clear claim to the money?”
I didn’t think she did. I was pretty certain that she had never been legally married to Frenchy. Actually, I didn’t care. I’d have gladly handed her the money if I could just forget the whole thing. But I said cautiously, “That’s for the court to decide.”
I glanced at my watch and rose, and what I hoped would happen did. Pinky made no move to get up. He winked at me and turned his back, leaning forward toward the girl. I went out to the car and phoned Orton at the office.
“Ruth got a note,” I said. “Better put Pete Consoli on her, just in case.”
“She frightened?”
“She’s not going to run, at least. I’m going over to the Florentine, in case you want me.” I hung up and turned the car onto the highway.
9
HARRY DANIELS was in his office and he was not particularly happy to see me, although he managed his usual welcoming smile.
“Hi, Max. What’s this I hear about Joe?”
The pipeline was working again. Everything that happened in the sheriff’s office, it seemed, got around.
I made my voice casual. “He needs a rest. He’s taking a few months leave of absence.”
“Rather sudden, wasn’t it? He was in here only the other night… the night Frenchy died.”
I looked at him hard, but if he had any reason for the remark I couldn’t tell.
I said, “Yeah, he was in here around six, checking on a report on one of your guests. It didn’t work out.”
He showed no interest. “Anyhow, congratulations, Captain.”
It annoyed me that he should think he knew exactly all that went on in our shop.
“Your little boy has his wires crossed. I’m still a lieutenant, and it will stay that way. I’m just filling in at Joe’s desk until he comes back.”
